


To See A World (In a Grain of Sand)

by yzba



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yzba/pseuds/yzba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into another time offers Arthur a chance to make some changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To See A World (In a Grain of Sand)

The first time it happened, they were on their way back from Ealdor. When Arthur realized Merlin wasn't behind him he sighed, rolled his eyes, and quickly sent the girls on their way. They were less than an hour from Camelot, and the chances of something happening to them were almost null.

They'd already proven they could take care of themselves.

He retraced his steps slowly, looking for any signs of his wayward manservant, only to spot him, about ten minutes from where he'd turned back. Merlin sat on his horse, both stock still, their heads lowered. Arthur smirked, stamping down on the glimmer of pity he felt. Merlin had been quietly withdrawn ever since they'd left his village, and Arthur could see the grief, hanging heavy on him.

He nudged his horse forward and was about to call out, when it happened.

His vision blurred for a moment, and everything changed.

The greenery of high summer faded to the yellows and reds of autumn, the clear blue sky, to the grey of a rainy day. Instead of the chestnut horse and it's rider stood a tall grey stallion, mounted by a man dressed in black leather, a sword hanging at his side as though it was a part of him. Rain fell down, soaking the man to the bone but he seemed to ignore it, or maybe he'd simply grown used to it.

His head was down, but Arthur somehow knew the man was intensely aware of everything around him, body and mind attuned to the forest surrounding him. Black hair curling with moisture framed a face that was too lean, and from his point of view, Arthur could see the sharp angle of the man's cheekbones.

The stranger looked up, and Arthur met eyes that were almost otherworldly. Brilliant blue surrounded by a thin circle of amber, he knew the slant of those eyes, just as he knew the perfect bow of those lips and the line of the nose. This other version of his manservant, because there was no doubt in his mind that this was indeed Merlin, was obviously older, face and body marked by too much loss. A thin, still pink scar ran along the length of his jawline, and his eyes held an infinite sadness.

Arthur swallowed at the sight of it all, the picture too foreign, too strange to take in completely.

He blinked, and the image dissolved, leaving behind the Merlin he knew, a Merlin grief strickened, granted, but the mostly incompetent Merlin he'd grown used to.

The image stayed with him, despite, or maybe because of the strangeness of it.

The second time it happened, Merlin was standing over a downed unicorn, his head bowed, and sorrow like a heavy cloak around him. The image was so fleeting, gone so quick, that Arthur dismissed it as a trick of the light.

But weeks later, the two came back to him as he sat in his chambers, a sling supporting his arm, and a cup in his other hand.

"You need to listen as well as you fight."

This time, the vision wasn't really one, in fact, it wasn't one at all. When he looked at his manservant, what he saw was somehow more strange than what he'd seen previously.

This time, the image wasn't separate, it was overlaid over Merlin, in the shadows dancing over his face from the fire, in the tone of his voice and the bearing of his body.

The words sounded so final, like a goodbye and a deathbed confession, like a last minute advice. Arthur felt something in him constrict at the weight of Merlin's stare, at what he could see dancing in those blue eyes.

Merlin's parting words sliced through him painfully, and Arthur swallowed, somehow too slow, and too confused to be able to call him back.

That night, a nightmare brought him out of a deep, exhausted sleep, and he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, willing his heart to stop racing in his chest.

It wasn't any surprise to him, to find himself in the stables at the same time as Merlin, nor was it surprising to see his manservant leave the keep.

The previous night's discussion had had all the markings of a goodbye.

His shoulder throbbing painfully, Arthur followed Merlin out of Camelot, just as his servant must have had followed him to that damned labyrinth. The journey wasn't a short one, nor was it an easy one, but he kept on, something pushing him to follow, to find answers to questions he didn't even dare ask. He kept his distance, but he somehow knew he didn't have to bother. Merlin seemed deep in thoughts, and focused on something Arthur himself could not see.

The road took them to the shore of a lake, where Arthur dismounted as quietly and as painlessly as possible. In the back of his mind was a mocking voice, taunting him about how princely he looked, mincing his way from tree to tree, in the hope Merlin still wouldn't see him.

He looked on, as Merlin crossed over to the edge of the water and the wooden deck.

When the vision hit, it was almost painful, and Arthur fought against the momentary dizziness, intent to see this one through to the end.

Contrary to every other vision he'd had, this version of Merlin was dressed in rich, pure white, clothes more elegant than anything the other man had ever worn before. Arthur could distinguish the golden crest of Camelot woven on the white cape his servant wore.

Except that this man was no servant. Everything about this Merlin screamed power. He was as thin as Arthur had ever seen him, cheekbones still too visible in that lean face, and yet, there was a strange gracefulness in the way he moved, no hint of the clumsiness he'd come to associate with Merlin. The sword he'd first seen in the forest still hung by Merlin's hip, and the man moved as though he was used to it, when Arthur knew just how cumbersome it could be.

The surroundings finally caught up to him, and Arthur reluctantly tore his eyes away from Merlin to look around, his sight falling to the small wooden boat at the edge of the lake. From where he stood, he could see the body on it, dressed in rich reds and gold, the greying hair and neatly trimmed beard.

He took a step closer, hoping the vision wouldn't fade away, too curious to be worried about being seen.

He didn't even know if he could be seen. This was clearly some sort of sorcery, but Arthur found that he didn't care, that this scene was strangely familiar.

The reason for it became clear when he saw the dead man more fully.

His own body lay there, surrounded by a sword and a shield, all stamped with the familiar crest. His face was lined with years and a few scars already faded by time. Arthur wasn't sure, in this moment, or in any other, what shocked him the most. Was it seeing his own dead body? Or was it something else, something about his servant, or about the surroundings maybe?

He could only look on, as Merlin knelt by the side of the boat, and lowered one of his hand until it rested on the dead Arthur's chest. From where he stood, Arthur couldn't miss the grief and sorrow that lined that well known face.

His voice hoarse, Merlin murmured loud enough so the words carried to him. "Sleep well my lord, we'll see each other again." The hint of a smile teased the corners of Merlin's lips, as he grabbed hold of his king's hand, and raised it to his lips. "Hopefully, you won't be as much of a prat when we do." He pressed a kiss to a cold palm, and the affection in the gesture nearly cut Arthur off at the knees. This was more than a loyal servant. This was a friend and confident, an advisor, a right hand and sometimes a left hand too. "I miss you my friend." Merlin closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against Arthur's palm. Those last words echoed through Arthur's mind, a reminder of their first meeting, and of a too courageous boy facing a prince.

His eyes narrowed when Merlin got back to his feet, and his hand outstretched in front of him, murmured something Arthur could not understand, but he couldn't miss the flash of amber in the man's eyes. Pushed by an invisible hand, the boat glided on the water, towards an island Arthur could barely see.

Only when the vision faded did he realize it wasn't the same lake, or the same island. He cursed himself when he realized he'd missed Merlin's departure, his manservant already floating away on what looked like it could be a twin to the boat he'd just seen his own dead body being led to rest in. He looked around, but could see no other means of following, and he settled against a tree trunk to wait. He wasn't even sure why it was so important that he followed, but the urge that simmered just beneath his skin would not be denied.

He didn't know how long he waited, but it didn't feel like very long, when the boat glided back to the deck, empty.

"Merlin." He whispered, unaware he was even doing it. He crossed to the platform, and carefully lowered himself into the small skiff, searching for oars.

The first movement, like a horse dancing beneath him, eager to take off, surprised him, and he grasped the sides of the boat with his good hand. Quickly, too quickly, he found himself more than halfway to the island, the boat seemingly moving by itself, his heart racing away. The moment the boat thunked softly on the rocky pier, he was all but jumping out of it, clambering up unto the safety of firm earth beneath his feet.

He couldn't see a thing, but he heard the words clearly, and somehow, he wasn't surprised. Merlin was a sorcerer. Merlin was willing to give his life for him, for Gaius, for Hunith.

Merlin was powerful.

Powerful enough to bring on the rain, and the lightning. The first glimpse he got of the confrontation was of Merlin raising his hand and calling the lightning, of Nimueh vanishing in a blaze.

Arthur slumped against the stone wall, already soaked through from the pouring water. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, trying to catch his breath again, trying to calm the thunder of his heart in his ears.

How could he have missed this?

The moment he saw Gaius move, Arthur turned around. He didn't want to be caught, and he needed a little time to think before he could even begin to imagine talking to Merlin.

He got back on the boat in a daze, and didn't even flinch when it moved seemingly by itself.

The rain let up about halfway through the journey back, the heat from the sun quickly drying his clothes, even as Arthur ignored the pain in his shoulder.

Ignored everything except what he'd just seen.

\---

It took him a little over two weeks. Two weeks of thinking and observing, of trying to wrap his head around what he now knew and trying to decide how he could approach Merlin with it.

For a brief moment, he'd considered keeping his knowledge a secret, but it hadn't lasted more than a few hours. Not once he'd realized that it wasn't that Merlin was magic that he hated, but that the man hadn't told him. He might be a prince, but he wasn't a hypocrite. If he wanted no secrets, he couldn't keep one himself.

Besides, he had the feeling that unless he wanted to risk a serious head injury, working openly with his manservant was the better alternative. Going over the last year, it was more than obvious that Merlin had used every moment of unconsciousness to save his life. Suddenly, over half a dozen instances of near miraculous survival made sense.

He wanted to know, how and when, every little thing Merlin had done, from the most benign to the most extraordinary display. He wanted to see for himself, wanted to feel that power rub over him. He wanted to see the Merlin he'd only caught glimpses of so far, the one who'd walked into his chambers and told him he'd be happy to serve him until the day he died, the one who'd sat in front of him while they discussed who would drink poison. He couldn't get the vision of an older Merlin out of his head, or the affection that man had displayed for a dead king. He wanted that fierceness for himself, that loyalty and that unshakable faith.

He wanted Merlin.

Once the first shock had passed, and he'd been able to think again, he'd realized that this was a chance he couldn't have hoped for. The feelings that had been brewing, that he'd been denying for months because he wouldn't, couldn't, ask for something like that from a mere servant, no matter who that servant was were now given free reign. He'd just found himself an equal, someone who would never bow down to him, not really. Merlin had never been subservient, always presenting a front on the rare occasion where he decided to show respect, but as a servant, Arthur never would have allowed himself anything other than the friendship they'd been developing.

Suddenly, everything was possible. Merlin's power made him equal, maybe even more powerful than Arthur himself.

He wasn't about to push, not until it felt right, but Arthur could now allow himself to let a few things show. The small touches he'd been permitting himself grew a little more frequent in the two weeks he gave himself to think, and he started paying a little more attention to Merlin's reactions, something he'd been careful not to do before.

He was pleasantly surprised to have the touches returned, and to realise the prolonged eye contacts, and the easy banter -flirting- went a lot deeper than he'd believed. Merlin gave back as good as he got, meeting him smirk for smirk and innuendos for innuendos.

Oh yeah, things were looking interesting.

Arthur knew he couldn't make a move until the air was cleared between them. They couldn't have any kind of relationship while this big secret hung heavily between them, not if he wanted things to have a chance to work.

So he looked on, as Merlin made a show of bumbling around his chambers, stumbling and dropping things, when Arthur had the feeling that the man wasn't nearly as clumsy as he portrayed, at least when he could use magic to compensate. Finally tired of the charade, and of the secrets, he kept his eyes on him, as he said. "I know."

"Sire?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. It was funny, the way Merlin seemed to pick and choose when to be respectful and when to disregard any references to his rank.

"I _know_." He repeated.

Merlin looked back at him. "Know what? Sire."

He held Merlin's gaze steadily, not blinking and unflinching, waiting until finally something that looked like fear flashed across his servant's eyes.

He bit back a curse. In all his planning, all of his considering, he had never, for one moment, thought that Merlin could be afraid to tell him. In hindsight, he probably should have. Arthur got to his feet, slowly, his hands held away from his body and away from any weapons, and Merlin took a wary step back.

This time, he didn't even tried to stop the curse from spilling out.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you fool."

Merlin stayed silent and still as a statue, eyes carefully shuttered as they looked at him.

"Do you really think me so low that I would have you killed?" Arthur questioned, before forging on. He didn't really want an answer. "A blade can be used as easily to defend and save lives as it can be used to kill and pillage. Fire can burn and destroy, but it can also purge and purify."

Merlin flinched, and Arthur realized, belatedly that using the word _purge_ in front of a magic user wasn't the best of ideas.

He took a step forward, and again, Merlin took one back, in a strange dance that Arthur found himself disliking immensely. "Magic-" Another flinch before Merlin's blue eyes went steely, and his body relaxed. Arthur wasn't fooled, he could recognize that stance anywhere. It was the way a warrior relaxed an instant before striking. "Magic can be as beneficial as it can be harmful. It is not magic itself that is bad, but the way some people choose to use it."

"That's not what you have always said sire." Merlin finally spoke but his voice was empty, and Arthur hadn't known, hadn't even suspected that Merlin could hide his feelings that well. Then again, he'd managed to hide something pretty big, for almost a year, so maybe it shouldn't be that surprising.

He cocked his head to the side. "What I think about it could be considered as treason." He said. "I am the prince. I have to uphold my father's laws. My own opinions on the matter have little sway with the king."

"By your father's law, you should have me arrested and killed."

"I should." He agreed and Merlin closed his eyes. "But I owe you a debt, more than one, and I would be a poor king one day if I disregarded the simple fact that you have saved my life multiple times."

Merlin's eyes flew open.

Arthur allowed himself a small smile. "I'm not quite as dim as you think Merlin. I know what I owe you. Maybe not all of it, but enough to realize that I could not wish for a better man to have at my side."

Merlin swallowed, and the ice in his eyes thawed. "Sire."

Arthur shrugged, and smiled. "I think, given everything, that you of all people can forgo the niceties."

"My magic is yours to command. It always has, and always will."

"How about not letting me get hit on the head? Maybe next time you could use it without me being unconscious."

In a blink, the tension in the room vanished, as Merlin grinned. "But it's so convenient."

"How many times Merlin?"

"How many times have you gotten hit on the head?" Merlin asked.

"How many times have you saved my life?"

Merlin hesitated a moment. "A few."

"Are we talking one or two or-"

Merlin winced.

Arthur raised a brow.

"A few more times than that."

Arthur waited.

"I don't know the exact number. Some times I helped things along, but I wouldn't say I saved your life."

Arthur nodded. "Fair enough."

"What now sire?"

Arthur shook his head at the honorific. "You keep on doing what you've been doing, only without waiting for me to be unconscious. You keep the magic hidden until I can reverse the ban once I'm king."

Merlin nodded once before his eyes drifted down, and Arthur took another step forward, until he could lay a hand on the other man's shoulder. "And you don't keep things from me. Never again." He squeezed gently. Merlin looked up, and Arthur swallowed a gasp. Amber ringed the blue he was so familiar with, but it was the intensity in those eyes that took his breath away.

"I never wanted to lie to you. I only ever wished to protect you."

Here was the man he'd only caught fleeting glimpses of. The one who, years from now would kneel down by his body and tell him they'd see each other again.

"I know, and I can understand why you never said anything, but this changes things, and I won't tolerate lies."

"Changes things? How? Arthur, I'm still your servant, and you're still the crown prince of Camelot. Magic is still illegal in your kingdom."

Arthur smiled and held Merlin's gaze, his hand moving until it was cupping the back of Merlin's neck, thumb brushing at the soft hair he found. "As far as anyone else can know, yes, you're my servant, but how can I consider you as such when you have as much, if not more power than me?"

"Arthur." It was a mere breath, barely an exhale that shaped his name, but it sent shivers running down his spine.

"In public things have to remain the same, but in private I can't ask you to serve me."

"Are you sacking me?"

"Never. You have a place besides me as long as you want it."

"What then?"

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, images flashing behind his lids. "Be my friend. That's all I can ask of you."

"Is that all you want me to be?" The words were hoarse, and Arthur's eyes flew open.

"I-" He couldn't seem to be able to force anything out, but it didn't matter for long, because Merlin suddenly closed the distance between them, moving slowly enough that it had to be deliberate.

The first touch was a soft one, a brush of lips, chaste and almost shy. "Or do you want me to be something more than your friend?" Merlin whispered against his lips.

Arthur barely recognized his own voice when he croaked his answer. "Merlin." He leaned forward enough so that his lips were once more pressing against Merlin's, this time more firmly and without any shyness.

The tingle spread from his lips outward, and Arthur tightened his hold on Merlin's neck, bringing him just a little closer. "I can't ask. Not for this, and not from you." He murmured, his eyes steady on Merlin's.

"You're not asking. I'm offering." He felt the smirk curve Merlin's lips more than he saw it. "I've always been yours. Magic, body and soul."

"But is this what you want?" Maybe he shouldn't have asked, not if he risked not having this.

"Yes."

The relief surged through Arthur like a tidal wave, washing him clean, and filling him with hope. If he had Merlin by his side- "I-"

"One day, you'll be king, and you'll need a wife and a son. One day, I'll let you go, happy because for a little while, you were mine. I know that Arthur, I know."

The thought wasn't a happy one for Arthur. He knew Merlin was right, knew his duty to his kingdom would have to come first, but it was still years away, and Merlin was here, now, in front of him, and offering something Arthur hadn't quite dared hope for.

"We'll find a way." He kissed those soft lips once, then again just because he could. "When it's time, we'll find a way." Half formed plans were already fleeting through his mind, but they disappeared when he felt Merlin's fingers cup his face.

**Author's Note:**

> The first thousand words of this was written almost a year ago, and I can't remember what I was planning to do with it. What I do know is that it's not often that I struggle with a fic this much. It's almost surprising that I've managed to finish it. I have a few other things in the same 'verse that might get written (including one that's a crossover with Harry Potter. Don't ask me to justify, really, because there's no way I can.) at some point, but given how hard this was to write, who knows? Title is the first line of a poem by William Blake and the summary was as hard to write as the story was.


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